Reflection
by Shimjim
Summary: He saw himself in her, in those empty blue eyes that he loved so much. Oneshot for the LawlClan challenge of the month.


_For the challenge at LawlClan. The prompt was a picture posted on LawlClan. _

_Special thanks to my beta, thepremaster22._

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><p>"Come on, little one. I have a surprise for you." He knew she couldn't hear him, but he couldn't quite break the habit of talking to her like she could. It seemed like that would be giving up hope that she ever would hear him, surrendering to her differences. He had never been one for admitting defeat.<p>

He curled his tail around her shoulders and guided her towards the camp exit. Her unbalanced, crooked gait made him nervous. She was fragile, so very fragile. He couldn't shake the feeling that she'd shatter like ice if she tumbled to the ground. He caught her gaze for a second and saw his own eyes staring back at him, the exact same shade of milky blue. He searched those eyes intently for a moment, searching for a spark of recognition, of life, of _anything_. But it was the same as always, blind blue eyes wide with innocence she'd never lost. He sighed, nuzzled the top of her head, and kept walking.

He nodded to Breezewhisker as he passed the medicine cat den. The young tom nodded back solemnly, and his daughter perked up slightly as if she could smell the bitter herbs. He nudged her gently with one paw, and she started walking again. As he left the medicine cat behind, he couldn't help but think about his other daughter, Poppykit. The little she-cat would go all starry-eyed at the mention of the handsome silver tom and shadowed his every step when she was allowed out of the nursery. He glanced down at the tiny kit at his side and knew she'd never get to experience the silly, flighty adoration her sister felt.

They left camp quietly, making an odd pair if there ever was one. Him, the dark hulking tabby, and her, the tiny pale ginger with stripes like tendrils of fire. He led her expertly, steering them around pitfalls like stray twigs in the path or sharp-thorned plants that would rip through fur and skin and flesh. He cleared his throat. "Has Grayfeather been treating you well, Foxkit?" he asked her. Her name felt clumsy on his tongue. It was always a pet name for her, 'little one' or 'little tigress'. He hardly ever used her real name because she was nothing like real foxes, with their cruel yellow eyes and long dark claws.

She didn't answer, but then again, she never did. He nuzzled her, placing a quick lick on the top of her head. "I love you, little one," he said. She didn't reply, but a delicate body pressed against his. That was all the reply he needed. "Come on," he meowed. "I'm taking you to a special place."

She followed along under his careful watch, stumbling every now and then. He would nudge her back to her feet and she would keep going. She always kept going, his brave little tigress, even when it meant hurting herself.

"You know, this wasn't always WindClan territory," he told her quietly as the moorlands faded away into forest. "Once, there was another Clan besides the three today. It was called ThunderClan." He had told his children this story a thousand times, but Foxkit would never hear it. "ThunderClan was once revered as the strongest Clan, but after many seasons of prosperity, they grew prideful and stopped listening to StarClan." He caught her quickly before she could trip over an exposed root. "Careful, little tigress."

"But, yes, back to ThunderClan. They stopped following the warrior code, letting in kittypets and loners who did nothing to help the Clan. Their medicine cats had kits, and some cats even went outside their own Clan to find mates.

"The leader of ThunderClan at the time was a tom. His name has been lost for seasons, but his legacy remains. The tom had once been a great warrior, but now he was just the head of a lawless Clan, old and weary from moons of service. Now, the ThunderClan leader was blessed with three grandkits who were the finest warriors to call themselves ThunderClanners in a very long time. Not even greatness can stop death, though. They were killed one day as they snuck over a rival Clan's border, the she-cat and the medicine cat struck down by warriors protecting their homes. The last of them went mad with grief and, after slaying those who had killed his siblings, drowned himself in the river. The leader was distraught, taking it as a sign that StarClan no longer cared for ThunderClan. He renounced our ancestors and declared ThunderClan to be a place free of StarClan.

StarClan grew angry at ThunderClan's proclamation. No Clans would exist without them, and here these cats were claiming that they no longer cared? They were no better than rogues now, and StarClan dealt with them accordingly. The cats who had first given up on their ancestors were taken by a terrible sickness that struck them down." He closed his eyes for a moment, stopping dead in the path with his tail curled around his little lost daughter. "The ancient warriors allowed a fire to run rampant through camp one night as the cats slept. It killed many, including the once-great leader. Fire had once saved the Clan, and now it had destroyed it. The survivors scattered, either joining the other three Clans or leaving the area entirely. The fire raged on until rain fell from the skies, putting out the flames as StarClan mourned the loss of their children."

He fell silent for a long moment before licking the top of his daughter's head. "Come on," he mewed softly, even though he knew the words fell on deaf ears. "We're almost there." She flicked her ears and turned her face up to him, and for one moment, it was like she was looking back at him. Curling his tail tighter around her shoulders, he began walking again.

The meadow was still recovering from the cruel bite of a long leafbare, but the young herbs had still sprung up as soon as the first thaw arrived. He watched Foxkit stiffen and let out a surprised squeak, blue eyes going round with wonder. He could imagine that the scents were overwhelming her and gently touched his nose to her shoulder. "You're fine," he assured her, more comfortable in kind lies than hard truths.

She relaxed as he touched her, pressing against him for a moment before taking an unsteady step forward. He held his breath as he watched her. If she fell, he would never forgive himself, but he would let her have this one moment of freedom.

She padded forward on trembling paws, zigzagging this way and that with no clear direction in mind. He watched as she stilled, looking out over the meadow with unseeing blue eyes. His heart broke in that moment, and he wished that there was another way. "It's so beautiful out here, li—Foxkit." No, he had to call her by her name, just for today. "Everything's so green and bright. The herbs you smell are the ones that some clever medicine cat planted a long time ago. All the flowers are in bloom, poppies and daisies and marigold." He sent a quick glance up at the sky. He wanted her to know everything about this dazzling place.

"The sky's getting darker. It'll probably start raining soon, so we can't stay long. I wish you could see it, Foxkit. You'd love it, I'm sure of it." His voice trailed off, looking over the silent meadow with sad blue eyes. Even after countless moons, there were still a few signs of what this place had once been, the unevenness of the land almost hidden by the thick undergrowth. The stories said that after the fire, the dying cats had refused help from rival Clans, even though ShadowClan's aging medicine cat had supposedly offered. Some few warriors had taken pity on the codebreakers and buried their charred corpses where they had lain.

But those times were over. Now it was simply him and his little one, who was trapped in a broken body. His little tigress, who pushed herself so hard, even though nothing would ever come of it. His daughter, who he loved too much to watch her suffer. His Foxkit, who didn't know that she stood on the burial ground of the last ThunderClan warriors.

He didn't look up when the rain started to fall. He only had eyes for her these days.

She stiffened initially, the pale ginger fur on her shoulders standing straight up. Grayfeather had always kept her and the other kits in the nursery when rain had come. It wasn't the freezing storms of leafbare, though. The rain was cool, just a newleaf shower. Foxkit stood transfixed, blind eyes wide as she stared out over the clearing.

He could see the herbs, right where Breezewhisker had said they would be. The medicine cat was a good tom, better than most. He eyed the seeds doubtfully._ She'll be fast asleep before the other starts to kick in, _the silver tom had promised. _She won't feel a thing. _He hoped to StarClan that the medicine cat knew what he was talking about. Picking up the bundle of herbs, careful to not let any of the berries touch him, he walked over to sit down beside her.

The walk over to her was peaceful, gave him time to think about what he was really doing. He could remember how things had fallen apart and broken so beautifully.

He remembered how glad he had been that the kits looked like their mother, creamy ginger fur with fiery stripes like rays of sunlight. It was a relief to not see himself in them, no huge paws or dark tabby fur. Instead, he had lithe little tigresses of flame, perfect as anything StarClan had ever created. The number of kits was promising as well. Three, StarClan's number. The number of ancient Clans of myth and the number of pure Clans since ThunderClan had died out. Yes, his children were all perfect, just as they should be.

His mate had already picked out names by the time they were sleeping peacefully beside her after the birth, and it had relieved him to know that such an important decision would not be his to make. Names were powerful. They were all that was remembered long after courageous warriors had moved on to the stars above. He had looked on as she announced their names to the medicine cat, eyes shining proudly. Aspenkit, for the largest. Foxkit, for the one with the white underbelly. Poppykit, for the smallest and darkest. Aspenkit, Foxkit, Poppykit. His three perfect children.

He remembered the first signs that something was wrong, only a few days after the kits' eyes had opened. He had been surprised to see that one of them had his eyes, the same pale blue reflected back at him. All the signs had been there, the silence and the stillness. His mate, his beautiful Maplewind, had been heartbroken when Breezewhisker had given them the news.

He remembered the things he should have seen before leafbare's arrival, the cold looks Maplewind would give him when he nuzzled all of his daughters and how much thinner Foxkit had always looked. Then leafbare came, with its cold gray storms that never seemed to end. The looks only grew icier, but they were no longer directed at him.

He remembered the day that blackcough took Aspenkit to StarClan. One of the queens had found Maplewind trying to smother Foxkit before dusk had fallen. His mate, the she-cat he had loved so much, spat in his face and threw the blind, deaf kit at his paws. _This _thing_ should have died instead of Aspenkit, _she had hissed. _Find someone else to take care of it._

He remembered the day that blackcough had taken Maplewind. Grayfeather had taken the kits in, and Poppykit never asked what had happened to her mother. They all knew.

He remembered how relieved he had been when newleaf had come. He had been so foolish, so blind. Leafbare had been cruel, but newleaf was crueler. The new season, with its warm sun and plentiful prey, had given him hope for something better, for something that would never come. Those hopes had been shattered as his daughter only got smaller and sicker.

He remembered, he reflected, and he regretted that he had not done this sooner.

The rain had flattened her pale tabby fur, making her look dark and tiny. She shivered, like a flame on the verge of being snuffed out. The water would have drizzled through her thin pelt by now, turning cold on her flesh. He walked over and pressed against her like a hulking shadow, placing the bundle of herbs on the ground. A purr rumbled deep in his throat. "I love you, Foxkit. Do you know that? Your father loves you so, so much. Never forget that."

Foxkit immediately nestled into him, a speck of light against his darkness. He heard the soft, distorted purr that rose from her throat. It was the only sound she could make beside the awful, heartrending scream that had woken him on many a night. He could feel her blind gaze on him, innocent and trusting.

He cleared his throat, glad for once that she couldn't hear the pain there. "Little one, you're going to leave soon to go to a much better place. You'll be free there, free to see and hear and play like all the other kits. There's no pain or sadness there; everyone's happy. I'm sorry I can't go with you, little tigress, so sorry." He took a deep breath, his voice cracking. "But one day, I'll come there too, and we can be together again." He nuzzled the top of her head, placing a quick lick there. "Everything's so beautiful there, Foxkit. I can't wait for you to see. Just...just remember that your father loves you more than anything in the whole world."

He nudged her towards the herbs, like he always had to when he wanted her to eat. _Somewhere, StarClan is watching me and seeing how selfish I am, _he thought as he watched her nose them curiously. He closed his eyes when she started to eat. Three poppy seeds, one deathberry. The perfect combination for a peaceful death, Breezewhisker had sworn.

She curled closer, blind blue glaze eclipsed by heavy eyelids. The rain continued to pour down, the wind howling around them. He barely noticed. The little she-kit's eyes met his one last time, and for a moment, he saw that spark of life in her eyes that he had searched for. Then they closed, sleep overtaking her.

He curled around his little daughter, sheltering her from the wind and rain. He would bury her here while he came up with a story to tell the Clan. A tale about an adder would suffice, an adder and a helpless little kit trapped in her own dark world. No one would question it. But, for now, he didn't want to think about that. He closed his eyes, hoping that he would fall asleep to the soft rhythm of her fading heartbeat. He didn't want to think about the cold form he would have to wake up to or the questions Poppykit would ask about her missing sister.

For now, he only wanted to dream about his daughter playing in the rain with the clouds reflected in her bright blue eyes.


End file.
